


there's nothing left to lose when there's nothing left to hide

by shanegray



Series: camp rock cinematic universe [1]
Category: Camp Rock (Movies)
Genre: F/M, First Time, Past Drug Use, Underage Drinking, aggressive references to the year 2009, family nonsense, it took me like 8 months to write this why am i like this, this is literally just about mitchie and shane learning to be people together, underage tag for underage characters but no explicit content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-25
Updated: 2021-02-25
Packaged: 2021-03-15 18:47:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,850
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29688336
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shanegray/pseuds/shanegray
Summary: winter break 2009-2010. fitting into someone's life is a bit like a jigsaw puzzle.
Relationships: Shane Gray/Mitchie Torres
Series: camp rock cinematic universe [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2183490
Comments: 5
Kudos: 16





	there's nothing left to lose when there's nothing left to hide

**Author's Note:**

> if you're so inclined, the playlist i listened to for this fic is [ here](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/4BIIXXQbiCSD5MsrsINCyg?si=Q4UfCPwxQKKYlCKkTQTF4A)

“What do you want?”

It's a Tuesday night in November. There's a clink and an echo as Mitchie puts an empty wine glass down on the kitchen table in front of her mother and starts pouring a half-full bottle of white.

“You know mom, I resent that,” Mitchie says, holding back a smile.

“Uh huh.”

“I resent the implication that I can't make dinner without there being some ulterior motive.”

“You’re right.”

“I get straight a's, I can hold down a job,” Mitchie moves to take her seat across the kitchen table.

“This is all true,” Connie nods. “It doesn’t however answer the question. What do you want?”

Mitchie lets out a snort, and suddenly, they start laughing together. There’s a light feeling in the air when Mitchie finally asks,

“Ok, ok. Can Shane come stay with us for Christmas?”

Connie sighs. Truthfully, she’d been expecting a conversation along these lines.

“He’s still not speaking to his mother?”

Mitchie shakes her head.

“What about Brown?”

“He's doing a charity benefit in Antwerp.”

“Nate? Jason?”

“Nate booked a flight to Cabo about twenty minutes after he found out Jason was planning to go to their dads.”

“Ah.”

“Yeah.”

There's a sticky sort of silence, neither of them really acknowledging the reality of Shane's familial situation compared to their own. Connie takes a liberal sip from her glass.

“If you’re uncomfortable with it-“ Mitchie starts, slowly.

“I'm not uncomfortable,” Connie interjects. “I'm not, really. I let you meet him that weekend in Chicago, didn’t I?”

“This is different though this is, like, I don’t know. There’s implications about him being family, maybe?”

Connie nods thoughtfully, giving a hum in acknowledgment.

“And I know you know him really well and you get along and everything but he’s never really spent time with dad and he’s never been to the house and-“ Mitchie continues, a little faster.

“Mitchie-“

“I don’t know like maybe our relationship works because we don’t spend time with each other normally and he doesn’t get to stay over after school or whatever and we don’t have to share our lives like-”

“Mitchie, sweetheart calm down.”

“And I love him mom I really really love him but does that even matter do we even-”

“Mitchie,” Connie reaches out to grasp her daughter’s arm. “Stop, breathe.”

Mitchie does as she’s told.

“Feel better?”

“Yeah, thank you,” she says earnestly.

“You’re welcome,” Connie says, acknowledging Mitchie before continuing. “Sweetheart I think all things considered you guys are doing a pretty good job. Do I worry about you? Of course I do,”

“I'm sorry,” Mitchie says automatically.

Connie shakes her head. “There’s nothing to be sorry for, it’s my job to worry about you.”

Mitchie smiles.

“Mitchie, I have no problem with Shane spending the holidays here. I definitely like it a lot more than the thought of you going out there for two weeks.”

“Three,” Mitchie mumbles.

Connie frowns. “Your break is two weeks.”

“Shane doesn’t go back on tour until the end of January and he’s homeschooled, so,” Mitchie shrugs.

“Ok three then.”

“Maybe closer to four.” Mitchie’s head ducks, her eyes fixed stubbornly on the tablecloth.

“Jesus Mitchie aren’t you gonna get sick of each other?”

“That is...a very distinct possibility, yeah.”

Connie smiles in amusement. “I'll talk to your dad, you call Shane and tell him, ok?”

Mitchie smiles back at her mother before moving to get up from the table.

“Mitchie,” Connie calls behind her. Mitchie pauses at the threshold, listening. “You’re planning to have him in your room?”

“Why, is that ok?”

“Fine, fine,” Connie says, her voice getting a little higher as she waves her hand in a forced sort of casualty. “You gonna take those posters down?”

Mitchie’s eyes glint mischievously for a moment. “Nope."

…

Shane picks up the phone on the second ring.

“They’re about to take my phone away,” he says in lieu of a greeting.

“My mom said yes, you can spend your vacation with us,” Mitchie says.

“Fuck really? I mean I knew she’d be fine with it your parents love me.” Mitchie can almost hear Shane stumbling his words into a smile on the other line.

“That they do. Send me your flight information when you have it yeah? Or have Melissa or whoever books it?”

“Yeah yeah of course,” Shane says. “Fuck I’m so excited to see you.”

Mitchie's almost ashamed of the butterflies refusing to lay dormant in the pit of her stomach. “Yeah. God, me too.”

“Really I just I miss being with you and writing with you and,” Shane's voice lowers secretively, “I haven’t been able to stop thinking about Chicago since-“

“Yeah,” Mitchie cuts him off. “Me too” she says again. The butterflies move a bit lower. “I-“

Mitchie is cut off by what sounds of a muffled voice behind Shane, followed by Shane’s indignant protest of “Nate I’m on the phone you can’t just -“

“Hi Mitchie,” Nate says, clearly having wrestled Shane's phone out of his hand.

“Hello Nathaniel,” Mitchie replies. “How are you doing this fine evening.”

“You know the rules, it's an hour ‘till curtain we’re taking his phone.”

“Yeah yeah ok. Tell him I'll wait up to Skype later?”

“I'll pass the message along,” Nate says.

“I love you!” Shane yells from somewhere behind the receiver.

“Shane says he loves you,” Nate says diplomatically.

Mitchie laughs. “Tell him I love him too.”

There were sounds of some more muffled commotion as the line beeped, finally going dead. Mitchie stares at the phone in her hand for a moment before tossing it across from her and leaning backwards so her head was hanging off the foot of her bed.

Things were good. They were really good, in fact. It’s just when things are this good they have the potential to get even better, and that was absolutely terrifying.

Mitchie groans, addressing the empty room before reaching for her laptop, an instant relief washing over her when she sees the green dot next to Caitlyn's Skype handle.

“Yes?” Caitlyn answers in a faux-disdain. Mitchie can see her suppressing a smile through the grainy webcam and laughs.

“How are you, I miss you.”

Caitlyn groans, leaning back in her desk chair before coming forward again and slamming the front legs on the floor. “My AP French teacher finally realized he hasn’t graded any of our homework all year which also means he’s realized I haven’t turned in any assignments all year.”

“Booo,” Mitchie calls. “Can you convince him he lost them?”

“That's the plan, yeah. He was on duty in my dorm the other night so I made a point of studying oh so diligently in the common area, just to boost my reputation.”

“Boarding school sounds like hell,” Mitchie says.

“Speak for yourself, my parents haven’t looked at my grades in months,” Caitlyn says.

“My moms maybe looked at my grades twice this year. I’m not even sure my dad knows how to login to Powerschool.”

“Yeah but you and your mom have that whole unconditional trust thing. Plus when was the last time your gpa dipped below a 3.9?”

“That’s not the point!” Mitchie says. Caitlyn laughs, Mitchie continues. “How are your parents anyway?”

“They’re fine. I think my dads trying to grow squash.”

“Isn't squash a summer crop?”

“Yep,” Caitlyn says, popping the p.

“You live in Oregon,” Mitchie points out.

“I’m honestly not sure if that’s occurred to him,” Caitlyn says seriously.

Mitchie laughs. “You’re going home for winter break right?”

“Yeah, halfway through though Hanukkah mind you.”

“That sucks.”

Caitlyn shrugs. “Is Shane coming for Christmas? Did you find out?”

“Yeah I just spoke to my mom, not sure when though he might go home first.” Mitchie's eyes darted to the Led Zeppelin poster on the wall behind Caitlyn. She would bet money Caitlyn hasn’t once listened to Led Zeppelin.

“The last time you saw him was what, that concert in De Moines?”

“Chicago but yeah.”

“Same thing.”

“It’s really not.”

“I’m still not even convinced the midwest is a real place.”

“I can assure you from personal experience that the midwest does in fact exist.”

“What even happened that weekend you never actually gave me the details.”

“Nothing happened,” Mitchie says a little too quickly.

“Lying makes you go to hell, Mitchie.”

“Nothing happened!” she insists. “Something almost happened,” she shakes her head. “We didn’t have sex.”

“But you almost did.”

“I-yeah.”

“Well why not?”

“I don’t know,” Mitchie says, rubbing her face. “It just wasn’t the right time. We hadn’t seen each other in ages and we hadn’t had the time to get comfortable with each other like that over the summer-” Mitchie shakes her head again, finishing the thought. “We’re discussing it.”

Caitlyn sighs. “Mitchie you are one of the kindest, smartest, most driven people I know and I love you to death,” she says.

“But?”

“But sometimes you can be so naive.”

Mitchie frowns. “I don’t think I’m naive.”

“Now _that’s_ naive,” Caitlyn says. “If you guys have been talking about this for weeks then you must be feeling ok about it.”

“I am,” Mitchie insists. “It’s not even that it’s like-“ she sighs, collecting her thoughts. “It’s like every day we get closer to a sign that says ‘no turning back’ and it’s not like I want to turn back but just sometimes it can be so isolating.”

“Isn’t the point of a relationship supposed to be that it’s the opposite of isolating?”

Mitchie laughs. “No I mean like,” she sighs, fiddling with her hair before continuing. “You’re one of the only people I can talk to about these things. My school friends know we’re together but-” she shakes her head. “I’m just always trying to protect him, and myself too I guess.”

Caitlyn hums. “Yeah, that’s fair. I’d probably feel the same way in your shoes.”

“Yeah, see. No turning back.”

“Oh, I don’t think the line of no turning back is having sex with him I think the line is having him around your family for a month,” Caitlyn says. “Like at that point it’s not just about the two of you anymore. Granted I’m pretty sure Brown has you on speed dial but-"

“You’re not far off,” Mitchie says. “I got a semi-distressed call from Jason the other week after Shane was late for soundcheck and they couldn’t reach him.”

“Isn’t he always late for soundcheck?”

“Later than usual,” Mitchie corrects herself. “Anyway it turned out he’d just lost his phone again.”

“God dating men sounds like hell,” Caitlyn says.

“Didn’t you leave your phone on the bus back from an away game in September?”

“That's not the point, Judge Judy!”

They both break into fits of laughter.

…

December comes much more quickly than anticipated, and Mitchie thinks Indianapolis International has absolutely no business being this cold when she knows for a fact Los Angeles has had maybe two days of rain this month.

 _is your wifi back_ , she messages Shane. _i’m here early text me when you land._

Shane messages back almost immediately.

_no amount of xanax could knock out the toddler across the aisle from me. i think flying children first class should be illegal._

Mitchie shakes her head, smiling to herself.

_lol you’re telling me when you have children you’ll suddenly decide it’s ok to fly coach?_

_by the time we have children they’ll have invented teleports thus eliminating the need for air travel entirely._

Mitchie squirms in her seat a little, looking up at the people entering baggage claim even though she knew Shane wouldn’t be one of them.

 _will there still be tsa? customs?_ she asks.

_oh yeah and it’ll be worse but at least we’ll be saving the planet with all that jet fuel out of production._

Another message.

_THEY'RE LETTING US OFF SEE YOU IN LIKE FIVE MINUTESSSSS <3333_

Shane's status goes back to “away.” Mitchie's leg starts bouncing involuntarily, keeping pace with her suddenly racing heartbeat.

Shane has his hoodie pulled up all the way and the strings tied so tightly that you can’t even see the arms of his inappropriately dark sunglasses, and Mitchie’s heart shoots straight up to her throat the moment he catches her eye and smiles at her like he’s been waiting a decade to do so.

“God I’ve missed you so much,” he says, the polyester of their sweatshirts colliding as he engulphs her in a hug.

“I’ve missed you too,” she says into his shoulder before reaching up to kiss him. She loves how familiar it feels, like they’re real people.

“You look like you’re incognito,” she tells him.

“I am incognito,” he says. Shane lifts his bag off the carousel and falls in step with Mitchie towards the parking lot. “Tell me you would’ve recognized me if you weren’t looking for me.”

“I would’ve recognized you if I wasn’t looking for you.”

“Impossible.”

“Not impossible. Who else would have a coffee stain on pants they bought last week. You bought those last week right?”

“It was two weeks ago thank you,” Shane protests.

Mitchie shakes her head, a smile playing at the corner of her lips. “You’re ridiculous. How much did those cost?”

“More than the coffee less than the plane ticket,” he says.

Mitchie sighs. She clicks the button on her car keys to pop the trunk for Shane before opening the door for herself. “We can drop them at the dry cleaners tomorrow, my mom might be able to get it out too.”

Shane slams the trunk closed and slides into the passenger seat next to her, discarding his sunglasses on the console. “If we even make it to your house by then. It’s an empty parking lot how on earth did you end up in a space this far away.”

“You’re literally the first person I’ve picked up from the airport by myself have some respect.”

“I’m honored,” Shane says, throwing his hand up to his heart before reaching for the CD case on the floor in front of him and flicking through the selections. “Why do the first three of your mixtapes have Fingerprints by Katy Perry on them?”

“She understands me, Shane.”

He shakes his head, flipping to the next CD. “This one just has four 3oh!3 songs on it.”

“I was in a mood.”

Shane flips again. “Ok this Pink album was really good.”

“I know I’m so pissed I missed her Rosemont date.”

“I think she might have shows lined up this summer, I’ll ask Matt.”

“I’m more than happy to exploit your connections in this instance.”

Shane smiles. “Speaking of, there seems to be a distinct lack of my music in this collection.”

“It’s in the back!” Mitchie protests.

“Our sophomore album isn’t here.”

“Shane you don’t even like that album.”

“I wish I could argue with that,” he says.

“The new ones good, I have it on my iPod too.”

“Yeah, you _would_ like that one.”

Mitchie grins. “Call me a narcissist.”

“Narcissist.”

“Pot calling kettle, dear.”

Shane laughs again and joins their hands between the console. Every single part of him feels warm.

…  
  
Shane passes out immediately after dinner. He sleeps 14 hours.

“God, I’m so sorry for being so out of it,” he says walking into the kitchen around 11:30.

Connie shakes her head, swallowing her mouthful of coffee. “Sweetheart no, when was the last time you slept past six?”

Shane blinks. “I can’t remember actually.”

“It’s been maybe twice since August I think,” Mitchie says, pushing a drink towards him. “I got you Starbucks.”

Shane takes the seat across from her. “I love you,” he says seriously.

Mitchie rolls her eyes. Connie laughs.

Mitchie can’t decide if Shane looks totally out of place here or completely at home. They spend way too long bickering from opposite ends of the hair care aisle of Target (“I need a speciality store, none of this is gonna work for me.” “For the love of God Shane just pick the most expensive bottle and move on,”) and pretends not to notice the way the girl behind the register glances a little bit too long at the name on his credit card.

“She totally recognized you,” Mitchie says.

“No way, you can’t see anything past these sunglasses.”

“You have your full name on your credit card.”

“ _If_ she recognised me it was simply out of mild curiosity. I’m sure there are many people with my name in and out of her establishment,” Shane says.

Mitchie suppresses a smile. She doesn’t think she’s ever seen him try this hard to pretend he’s normal.

“I can’t believe you two braved a Target two days before Christmas,” Steve says to them from the living room as Mitchie tosses her keys on the kitchen counter.

“It wasn’t that bad actually,” Mitchie says, watching Shane put a box of popcorn away in the correct cabinet and wondering how on earth he picked that up so quickly.

“Doubt anybody in that place is getting overtime anyway,” he says.

“Are you guys staying open for Christmas Eve?” Shane asks, conversationally.

“Nope.”

“Well not everyone can be as ethical as you, Dad.”

“It’s ridiculous,” he mutters, eyes still on the tv.

“What are you watching?” Shane asks, immediately abandoning the single bag of groceries in lieu of a distraction and joining him on the opposite end of the couch.

“I have no idea actually. One of those USA dramas.”

“Do they even have original shows? Isn’t it all -“ Mitchies cutoff by her phone loudly ringing from her pocket. “Shit - hold on,” she says leaving the room for the hallway.

“I love your ringtone!” Shane calls out after her. “Sounds like something that maybe won two AMA’s short of a Grammy nomination.”

“An AMA, huh?” Steve asks.

“Two actually.”

“But no Grammy.”

“Not even a nomination,” Shane says.

“Well, try harder next time,” Steve says with a faux seriousness.

Shane laughs. “No promises.”

Mitchie pops back into the doorway. “It’s Nate, he says your phone is dead again.”

“Sorry,” Shane pardons himself, following Mitchie up the stairs.

“When did you learn pleasantries?” Mitchie says.

“Just because I might choose not to use them-”

Mitchie puts Nate on speaker, closing the door behind them.

“How’s Mexico,” Shane asks, flopping backwards onto the bed. Mitchie watches him pick his guitar up from off the floor and start to pick nervously, the strings acting as fidget more than anything else.

“Warm. I haven’t left a pool in days.”

“Pool boy?” Mitchie asks.

“Piña colladias” Nate replies. “But there is also a pool boy, his name is Jack and he invited me to a New Years party.”

“Ooooooo,” Shane calls in a stereotypically girly voice.

“You didn’t text me when you got in last night,” Nate says, ignoring him.

“We spent like two hours with my parents before he joined the land of the dead,” Mitchie says. “I think by the time I went to bed he had drool coming out of his mouth.”

“Did not,” Shane muttered.

“Uh huh.” Mitchie lays forward opposite Shane, holding the phone out between them.

“That sounds about right,” Nate says. “Mitchie can you send me your address again so I can send you guys your Christmas presents,”

“Did you seriously wait until you were out of the country to shop for us?” Shane says.

“I sent your birthday present last week give me a break,” Nate replies.

“That doesn’t make any sense, why do it backwards?” Shane says.

“Nate did you forget about Christmas? Is that what happened here?” Mitchie chastises. “Play those chords together again that was nice,” she says as a sidebar to Shane.

“I did not forget about Christmas I just remembered it late,” he says. “You need an A in there.”

Shane tries the progression again. “That’s sweet.”

“Anyway,” Nate says, like he’s building up to what he actually called for. “I have to ship Jason’s gift too, do you know Dad’s address.”

Shane stops playing, smacking a hand against the sound hole to kill the echo.

“No idea,” he says. “Gonna have to ask him.”

“Yeah that’ll happen.”

“Ask Jason?” Mitchie offers.

“I’ll probably just save it until I get home,” Nate says, almost to himself.

“I get why it’s hard to reach out to your parents,” Mitchie says slowly, “but Jason gets that too, can’t you just-“

“No!” Nate and Shane say in unison.

“Ok!” Mitchie says, throwing her hand in the air despite the fact only Shane could see it. “But if he doesn’t have beef-“

“He does have beef,” Nate says. “He just also has more good memories than we do.”

“He’s a particularly forgiving spirit,” Shane adds bitterly.

“Lucky for you,” Mitchie says.

Shane shoots her a glare. “Fuck off,” he says quietly, but with enough force Mitchie instantly realizes she’s said the wrong thing.

“I’m sorry,” she tells him.

Shane rolls his eyes up to look at her before shaking his head slightly as if to say “it doesn’t matter.”

“Anyway,” Nate continues, completely unperturbed at this point at their tendency to bicker in front of people. “We’re probably all gonna have to do some video call Christmas Day so you’re gonna have to wake up super early if you want it to be before Jason tries to get anyone else involved.

“Yeah just let us know,” Mitchie says, watching Shane pick angrily at the guitar strings. “I think we’re gonna go make dinner,” she lies. “Talk tomorrow?”

“Sure thing.”

The line goes dead, Shane keeps playing absently.

“I’m sorry,” Mitchie says again. “They’re different issues I shouldn’t have brought it up.”

“No, no you’re right,” Shane says, putting the guitar back on the floor and sitting up to face her. “You didn’t mean anything by it. I’m not mad at you, I’m not even mad at Jason really.”

“Yeah,” Mitchie says quietly. “It’s ok that you’re angry, you know.”

Shane gives a single breathy laugh. “If I could count the number of times I’ve heard someone say ‘what’s wrong with that boy, where are his parents,’ like, fuck if I know!”

He laughs a little, like he’s trying to pretend he’s brushed it off. Mitchie, at a loss for words, elects to kiss him instead, bringing her hand up to his face.

“You’re just trying to distract me,” Shane tells her.

“Yes,” Mitchie says. “Is it working?”

Shane reaches to lace his fingers in her hair. “No.”

It’s 5 minutes before someone calls up the stairs asking if they want to order a pizza. They both groan.

…

“You guys better hurry up or we’re all gonna be late,” Connie says, fiddling with a necklace in the hall mirror. “You know how hard it is to get a good seat at the Christmas Eve service.”

“Shane’s having a bad hair day,” Mitchie says laying upside down on her bed, already dressed for church. “I have _never_ had a bad hair day,” Shane calls from the bathroom. “Anyway Mitchie’s literally wearing Vans tonight go after her instead.”

“Oh as opposed to a black tie, black shirt, black skinny jeans combo?” Mitchie shoots back.

Connie sighs. “You’re both very Christmas-y,” she says. “Right, are you guys coming with us to Kim and John’s for dinner after church?”

“Do they have kids?” Shane asks, turning the light off in the bathroom.

“Two 14 year old girls,” Mitchie says, getting up and following him out the door.

“Pass,” Shane says.

Connie frowns. “That’s not that much younger than you guys, it should be fun.”

“Shane’s a bit agoraphobic this week,” Mitchie tells her.

“I’m not agoraphobic I just would rather spend the holiday not talking about work or being a public commodity.”

“You’re making a big assumption about these girls,” Connie points out. “How about this, you guys come with us and take Mitchie’s car, and if you hate it you can leave. Does that sound fair?”

Mitchie looks at Shane, deferring to him. “Yeah ok, ok.”

If watching Shane blend into a Target was weird, watching him don a tie and stand in a pew was positively strange.

They spend most of the service flipping through the Hymnal together and rating the pageant costumes on a scale from 1-10. Mitchie catches Shane hit his shin against the kneeler at least twice. There’s a jolt and a _whack_ as Shane suppresses a hiss and a “fuck.”

“You doing ok there?” Mitchie asks, smiling in amusement.

“I’m fine.”

“When was the last time you were in a church.”

“Don’t give me that, when was the last time _you_ were in church.”

“Easter.”

“Oh I see so just the holiday crowd. You know-“

“Hush children,” Steve says.

“Sorry,” they mumble together.

Mitchie has no idea what to expect at dinner, but Shane pulls out his best smile and shakes everyone’s hands firmly and thanks them for having him and she wonders if this is what he’s like in a meeting with his label or a sponsor or something she’s never even heard of.

“Mitchie you look lovely, I love the hair,” Kim says to her, reaching over Steve to bring the pie tins into the dining room.   
  
Mitchie starts, lost in her thoughts. “Oh that's right you haven’t seen me since I dyed it huh?”

“Kailee went blonde this year, she keeps adding extra colors too. I think I’ve spent more money on salon care this year alone than I have my entire life,” she laughs. “We’ve got you guys at the end of the table with her and Jess.”

Connie appears behind them holding the merlot she brought with her by the neck. “You guys have a decanter lying around somewhere?”

For all her self consciousness, Mitchie’s always thought she’s been able to wow the pants off of a dinner table conversation without much thought. She can sell a joke with only a rare second thought and speak confidently about future plans she’s only sort of making up. That was before she saw Shane do the exact same thing.  
  
“So Shane, are you in school?” Kim asks him, passing a plate of asparagus across the table.  
  
“I’m graduating this semester actually,” Shane tells her. “I was able to stay on my original schooling schedule which has been really nice.”  
  
“So you’re eighteen then?”  
  
“Seventeen,” Shane says with a smile. “I turn eighteen on the thirty-first.”  
  
“A New Year’s baby!” John says.

Shane gives a performative laugh. “My dad used to say I was a new beginning.”  
  
Mitchie’s head snaps in his direction. She’s never heard him mention his dad so casually. She doesn’t know if it’s an assimilation tactic or an attempt to humanise himself as the outsider at the table, but it catches her off guard either way.  
  
Shane pointedly averts her eyes before holding up the bowl he was serving himself from. “Can I interest anyone in these fabulous potatoes?” he asks.  
  
“That’s all courtesy of Jess,” Kim says. “She can do incredible things with rosemary.”  
  
Jess laughs, seated across the table from Mitchie. “It’s literally just some olive oil and some rosemary from our bush.”  
  
“We saw that bush coming in, it looked lovely,” Connie interjects.  
  
The conversation turns in a different direction and Mitchie keeps staring at Shane.  
  
“You’re so good at this,” she says low enough so only he can hear.  
  
“It’s a survival technique,” Shane murmurs back.

…

Mitchie thinks the most gruelling part of any formal dinner is the sociable downtime between dinner and desert. The adults have all but abandoned the dining table to split off and gossip or put things in trays, and Mitchie volunteers to grab another bottle of cider from the kitchen just to have something to do.

“Mitchie’s growing up very nicely,” John’s voice says from the other side of the wall.

Mitchie pauses before the entrance, not entirely sure if she’s supposed to be here for this conversation.  
  
“Near perfect score on her PSATs,” Steve says. Mitchie catches him raising his glass and she smiles.   
  
"All your doing I’m sure,” John says. They laugh together.  
  
“So,” he continues. “How long have she and the boyfriend been together?”  
  
Steve hums in consideration. “Think it’s been a year or so now? You can ask them I'm sure Mitchie has the date down to the minute. Shane too, probably.”  
  
“He’s very funny that one,” John says.  
  
“Oh yeah he’s been great to have around the house, really brightens the place up.”  
  
“He had...some issues though, no?”   
  
It was like half of Mitchie’s body was prepared to bolt in the opposite direction while the rest of her was planted to the floor, breath bated waiting for her dad’s answer. It was a valid question, it wasn’t even a _bad_ question. She’s perfectly aware that Shane’s personal story has been part of public gossip and human interest for longer than she’s even known him, but it catches her off guard anyway.

“Shane’s been sober as long as they’ve known each other, John,” Steve says, not even beating around the bush.  
  
“Good for him,” John says earnestly. “‘Can't be easy with the kinda life he has.”

Mitchie can hear the obvious accommodation in his voice. Somewhere in the back of her head she appreciated the attempted benefit of the doubt, but she couldn’t shake the overwhelming protective urge rising in her chest.   
  
“Listen, I’m just really getting to know the kid but Connie’s spent a lot of time with him,” she hears her dad say. “He’s a good kid, he’s good for Mitchie too.”

The protectiveness in her chest merges with a feeling of pride. Mitchie takes a deep breath and crosses the threshold. “Sorry,” she excuses herself, grabbing the bottle off the counter and giving an apologetic smile before exiting. She knows she’s caught her father off guard, and tries not to look at him as some kind of courtesy.

“So are you guys twins?” Shane asks Jess and Kailee as Mitchie joins them in the dining room again.  
  
Jess shakes her head the same time Kailee says,“Nah, I’m adopted. It just sorta happened that we turned out to be the same age.”

“That’s cool,” Shane says. “I’m glad you’re here. It's actually been pretty fun to hang out with you guys.”

“He was nervous you were gonna be fans,” Mitchie explains, sitting back down with them.  
  
“You make me sound like such an asshole,” Shane says.  
  
“Nah it’s fair,” Jess tells him. “I wouldn’t wanna spend Christmas like that either.”

“We’re not really into your stuff, no offense,” Kailee adds.

“None taken, I think,” Shane says, frowning. “What do you guys listen to?” Mitchie asks.

“I got really into the local punk scene this year and dragged Jess into it,” Kailee says. “There was a show we begged to go to tonight but we were shut down.”

“What band?” Mitchie asks.  
  
“Subterfuge,” Kailee says.  
  
“I don’t think I’ve heard of them,” Mitchie says.  
  
“I think Paul knows their producer, they’re supposed to be good,”  
  
Shane says, pulling his phone out under the table. “Doors are in an hour,” he adds quietly.  
  
“Gooooo,” Jess says.  
  
“Yeah?” Mitchie asks. “You sure you guys can’t join us?”

“We’d never get away with it,” she says.

“If we leave now we could make it,” Shane tells Mitchie.  
  
“Let me go tell my mom, we stayed through dinner she can’t be too upset,” Mitchie says, getting up from the table and

“I think we’re gonna dip out,” Mitchie tells her. Connie turns around. “What? No you’re not.”

“You said we could leave, that was the whole point of bringing separate cars,” Mitchie reminds her.

“You don’t wanna stay for desert?”

“There’s a show at The Vogue we want to hit and doors are in an hour.”

Connie sighs. “Ok, ok. You’ll text me and keep me updated on what you’re doing?”

“Yeah of course,” Mitchie says.

Shane walks up behind Mitchie, placing a hand on the small of her back. “You ready to go?”

“I worry about you guys out on Christmas eve,” Connie says.

“We promise we’ll keep you posted,” Shane says.

“All right, all right. Go have fun.”

“Thanks mom,” Mitchie says, smiling and pulling her keys out of Shane’s pocket. She reaches for him with her free hand and locks their fingers as he follows her to the car.

“Love you guys!” Connie calls after them.  
  
“Love you too!” Mitchie says.  
  
Shane’s hand goes a little tighter around hers.

…

“We shouldn’t have driven,” Shane says rubbing the X on the back of his hand.  
  
“Shane not only do I not have a fake I’m pretty sure half the world knows you’re underage,” Mitchie says

“Yeah exactly, nobody’s gonna card you if you’re going through the back.”

“Next time we won’t drive and you can dm whoever you need to, ok?” Mitchie says, twisting to push past a group of girls in army jackets near the floor entrance. “Why is it this packed? It's a last minute show on Christmas Eve.” She reaches behind her to grab Shane’s hand as not to get lost in the crowd.  
  
“What else is there to do if you don’t have anywhere to go?” Shane says.

“Yeah I guess,” Mitchie says considerately, planting them in an open space in the middle of the crowd. “We’re overdressed,” she says.

“We were at church. No foul.” Shane says.

“You look good cleaned up,” Mitchie says, fiddling with the collar on his button up. Shane grins.  
  
“Yeah?”  
  
Someone comes up to them before she can respond.  
  
“Hi, uh I’m so sorry for interrupting,” a girl about their age in a zebra print shirt says, “are you Shane Gray?”  
  
Shane stands up a little straighter. “Yeah hi, nice to meet you.”  
  
Mitchie expects Shane’s demeanor to fall as the girl asks for a photo, but he’s completely steady as he asks her to turn the flash off and smiles for her Flip camera.  
  
“Trying not to attract too much attention,” he tells her. “This is my girlfriend Mitchie by the way.”  
  
The girl thanks them both and heads back into the crowd, and Shane’s shoulders immediately drop.

“I haven’t seen you do that before,” Mitchie realizes.  
  
“Yeah, that one was fine,” he says, moving to stand closer to her and wrapping an arm around her waist. “I just hope it doesn’t turn into more, it’s very often not fine.”

“Like too many people?” “Among other things.”

Mitchie looks at him. He sighs. “Like, too many people or they get too close or they won’t leave after you take the photo or whatever or they do or say whatever the fuck they want with you because you’re not a real person you’re just something they saw in a magazine or-”

“Ok, yeah that sounds very much not fine,” Mitchie says. “I-” she’s cutoff when the lights go down and the crowd starts to yell, drowning her out. Shane starts screaming in her ear, joining the crowd, and Mitchie thinks about how she’s never pictured him on this side of the stage.

…

The late night breeze is welcome as they stroll back towards her car. Mitchie can feel the concert sweat cool against her back and Shane’s hand warm in her own. It makes her feel simultaneously so alive and also convinced she’s in some dreamlike reality.  
  
“New Year's resolution, go to more concerts,” Mitchie says.

“If you come out to LA this spring we’ll hit the clubs on Sunset for sure,” Shane says. “Haven’t been to one bad show over there.”

“That’d rock,” Mitchie says. “Someone uploaded the entirety of a Blink-182 show at the Roxy to Youtube and it looked so grainy but it sounded so good.”

Shane suddenly drops her hand and jumps with dramatism, landing on the edge of the sidewalk before belting,  
  
“CAUSE I FELL IN LOVE WITH THE GIRL AT THE ROCK SHOW-” at the top of his lungs.

“Oh my God shut up!” Mitchie says, laughing.

“SHE SAID WHAT AND I TOLD HER THAT I DIDN’T KNOW.”

“It’s almost midnight people can hear you!”

“SHE’S SO COOL I’M GONNA SNEAK IN THROUGH HER WINDOW-”

“What happened to not wanting to be spotted?"  
  
“EVERYTHING'S BETTER WHEN SHE’S AR-”

Mitchie folds into him and kisses him mid-lyric with the pretense of shutting him up and the reality of just wanting to be close to him. Shane immediately smiles into the kiss.

“That songs about meeting someone at a rock show it’s totally different,” Mitchie says. “And it was written ironically anyway.”  
  
“It’s not so different,” Shane replies.

“I’d never get kicked out of school cause I was failing.”  
  
“Of course not,” Shane agrees. “I am however seventeen without a purpose or direction.”  
  
“Almost eighteen,” Mitchie reminds him, not even touching the self-loathing part and leaning up to kiss him again instead. It’s unseasonably warm for Indianapolis but he feels even warmer and smooth and steady.

“I love you so much,” he says against her lips.  
  
Mitchie pulls away a little further to get a better look at him. “I love you too.” She takes his face in her hand, stroking his cheek with her thumb and kissing him again.

She completely loses track of time, like her internal clock just shut off. They could’ve been standing there ten seconds or ten minutes but every other nerve felt like it was short circuiting with sparks falling on her skin.

It’s almost impossible to live in a present in a relationship that relies so much in the future, in daydream conversations about what it’ll be like when you actually have time together. It’s here and now in a way it hasn’t been and in a way it won’t always be and _God_ she loves him and she wants him and in this moment under the streetlights, she can’t think of anything that’s mattered more.

Shane stops, his eyes scanning her face trying to read her expression. “What?”

“Let's go home.”

…

Shane has never been a particularly sturdy person. He trips getting out of boats and drops glasses when he’s startled and Mitchie thinks she’s watched the “Shane Gray Stage Fails Compilation” video on Youtube at least 15 times. Yet somehow, she’s not at all shocked at how unwavering he is as he sort of guides her through it all.

Mitchie wonders if this is why the world constantly tells you to wait for someone special. Not because of the puritan nuclear family security ideals, but because of the inherent awkwardness of it all. She literally cannot think of a time she was this vulnerable with anyone ever in her entire life. There’s a point where Mitchie thinks that if he wasn’t her best friend, if he hadn’t seen her get pushed into the lake or watched an event she put together completely fall apart or or listen to her tell him about something like when a kid was mean to her in the first grade, that she would actually be having a panic attack right now. Still, she has this overwhelming moment of clarity when her clothes are off and he’s hovering over her where all she can think is “oh my god oh my god oh my god.”  
  
And then she completely calms down.

…

“I kept thinking all week before you got here about how we technically met four times,” Mitchie says, her chin propped up on her pillow.

“There was when we ran into each other in the kitchen, the time at the docks, when I overheard you in the mess hall -“ Shane counts.

“When we reintroduced ourselves to each other after that first final jam.”

Shane smiles into his hand. “I love that one.”

“There’s no clear first meeting. It’s just such a weird precedent.”

“Oh, I don't know,” Shane says. “I hope we keep reintroducing ourselves.

Mitchie looks inquisitively at him. Shane adjusts the hand he was resting on, nodding slightly.

“Things aren’t gonna be like this in three weeks, or three years. I mean we’re not even the same people we were three hours ago.” He reaches out to brush a few strands of hair out of her face, it feels somehow much more intimate than anything else they’d done that night.

“I’m glad I'm not the person I was when we met, and I'm glad you’re not either,” Shane continues. He shrugs. “I’m proud of us.”

“God you’re gonna make me cry,” she says, like it’s a complaint.

“Sorry,” Shane says, clearly not meaning it.

Mitchie shakes her head. “I’m not.”

He kisses her.

....

“Tell me something I don’t know,” Shane says, laying flat with his eyes closed.

“Musicians on average have a shorter lifespan than non musicians,” Mitchie says. God, she’s so tired. Nobody ever told her she’d be this tired.

“Nope,” Shane says, his eyes still closed.

“I’ve been using the same backpack since the sixth grade.”

“That purple thing?”

“Mmm,” she hums. “You go.”

“I saved my dad's phone number last week.”

“Are you talking to him?”

“Not really.”

She can feel his breathing go a little more shallow, but she doesn’t push. If Shane wanted to talk about it she has no doubt that he would.

“Tell me something I don't wanna know,” she says instead.

It only takes Shane a moment to think of something, he takes a breath before he speaks. “Like a week after Chicago Jason and I got in a fight. He said I didn't care about the work anymore.”

“That doesn’t sound like him.”

“No, it doesn’t.”

Mitchie doesn’t say anything. Jason was definitely the one she was least close to out of the three, but she still considered him a friend and it didn’t make anything in her chest squirm any less.

“Your turn,” Shane says.

“In October my friends invited me to do a line with them at a party and I was so upset I threw up in the bathroom.”

Mitchie is shocked at how quickly something she vowed she’d never tell him comes out of her mouth. Saying it out loud feels like a weight lifted from her chest, but she feels Shane go stiff against her back and immediately remembers why she didn’t tell him in the first place.

“A lot of people can do once in a while-“ he starts slowly.

“No.”

“Ok,” he says, taking a deep breath and tucking his nose against the top of her head. He means “Good.”

“Maybe that’s why Jason was upset. Maybe you pulling away is triggering for him.”

Shanes eyes widen in consideration “That is. A good point.”

Mitchie adjusts so that she’s facing him, her breath tickling his collarbone. Shane twitches reflexively, but holds her tighter anyway.

“Hey Shane,” she says.  
  
“Hmm?”  
  
“Merry Christmas.”

...

They manage to get in about three days of post-Christmas Starbucks take out and HGTV before someone notices they’ve barely left the house since Shane’s been in town.

“So,” Connie says, sitting down on the loveseat catty corner to them, “plans for today? Either of you planning on going outside at all?”

“It’s too cold for outside,” Shane complains, pulling the blanket he was wrapped in higher for emphasis.

“God, you’re so California,” Mitchie says.

“There are inside activities. I’m pretty sure they have movie theaters in California too,” Connie says.

Shane pulls his phone out of his pajama pocket the same millisecond Mitchie grabs her laptop from the seat next to her.

“Serious Moonlight?” he throws out.

“How many movies do we need about adults who cheat on each other?” Mitchie says. “Avatar?”

Shane makes a face. “Pass. The Lovely Bones?”

“Just say no to depression, Shane.”

“The new Twilight?”

“Already seen it, also what did I just say about depression?”

“What about that new Doors documentary?” Connie offers.

Shane shakes his head. “It was out at Sundance but it’s not being released until next year.”

“I think the Joy Division one is on pay-per view,” Mitchie says, picking up the remote.

“So that’s a no on outside,” Connie says.

“We might make cupcakes later,” Mitchie says, as if that counted.

“Mitchie, you guys need sunlight. Social interaction with other people.”

“We Skyped with Caitlyn last night,” she offers.

“Real people Mitchie.”

“Hang on, are we implying Caitlyn doesn’t exist?” Shane asks, cracking a grin and clearly filing this interaction away to tell her about it the moment he got the chance to.

“Non-camp people. People you can see in a social setting without worrying about your call dropping.”

“Ok! Ok!” Mitchie concedes, grabbing her phone from under the blanket. “I think Teddy and Alyssa wanted to get together, I’ll bother them.”

“They’re not -“

“No Shane, they have no interest in your professional endeavors.”

Shane straightens up a bit. “It’s a fair question!”

“It’s a fair question Mitchie,” Connie backs him up.

Mitchie sighs. “Yeah, I know.”

...

The question, it turns out, is more fair than they realized.

It starts out fine. Alyssa opens the door and hugs both of them with this genuine smile that actually reaches her eyes.

“It’s so nice to finally meet you, Mitchie won’t tell us anything,” she says.

“That’s not true!” Mitchie protests.

Shane laughs. “It’s ok she doesn’t tell me anything either.”  
  
“Great so we can compare notes,” Alyssa says. “I think Teddys still asleep, I haven’t heard from him but I’m starving if you guys are hungry. I was gonna do breakfast for dinner.”  
  
“That sounds amazing actually,” Mitchie says, making her way towards the kitchen like she’s just as familiar with it as her own.  
  
“So how long have you been in town, Shane?” Alyssa asks, opening the cabinet to pull out two mixing bowls.  
  
“‘bout a week?” Shane says, settling on a stool at the counter. “I got in on the twenty-first.”  
  
“Experiencing Indy in all its glory,” Alyssa says, dryly.  
  
“Oh yes, I’m very familiar with all four of the restaurants in Mitchie’s delivery radius now,” Shane says.  
  
“Ok first of all it’s more than four,” Mitchie says. “We went to a show at the Vogue Christmas Eve, it was so awesome.”  
  
“I haven’t been there in _ages,_ ” Alyssa says.

“I got a lineup program for the next couple months we can browse it for sure,” Mitchie says. “So what have you been up to, did your cousins end up coming for dinner?”  
  
“Ugh,” Alyssa groans. “Yeah, my favorite cousin had the swine flu so it was just my family on the other side. My aunt spent most of Christmas complaining about Obama. Like, who’s gonna tell her letting your children have sleepovers in the White House is not a political issue.”

“Didn’t he win Indiana?” Shane asks.  
  
“Yeah by literally one percent,” Alyssa says. “Actually it was one point zero three, but who’s counting?”  
  
“The Electoral College,” Mitchie answers, tearing open a package of bacon. “Alyssa’s family were super volunteers,” she explains to Shane.  
  
“It was awesome,” Alyssa says. “We went to the inauguration. It was freezing but like, top ten moments of my life hands down.”  
  
“I was there too,” Shane says conversationally. “We played at one of the balls, the one at the Hilton.”  
  
“That sounds amazing,” Alyssa says wistfully. She cracks the first two eggs into the frying pan before pulling out a second one and handing it to Mitchie for the bacon.  
  
“That sizzle sounds like heaven,” Mitchie says.  
  
“You’re so your mother’s daughter,” Shane laughs.  
  
“Teddy’s birthday last month Mitchie made all of us these really fancy grilled cheeses at like four in the morning,” Alyssa says, laughing along.  
  
“They’re the perfect drunk food!” Mitchie says.

“Oh my god that smells SO good, is that bacon?” a voice calls from down the hall.  
  
Alyssa’s eyes go wide. “Oh no,” she says quietly.  
  
“Is that-” Mitchie starts.  
  
“I’m so sorry she was supposed to be out today-” Alyssa starts before her sister rounds the corner into the kitchen. “Hey Grace,” she says brightly.  
  
Grace's jaw might have all but dropped. Shane gives a very quiet sigh.

“Grace, this is Mitchie’s boyfriend Shane,” Alyssa says very carefully.  
  
Shane raises a hand in an acknowledging wave. “Hey nice to meet you.”  
  
“You too,” Grace says, still staring straight at him.  
  
“Grace if you grab the bread out of the toaster I’ll give you some of these eggs,” Alyssa says.

“We were just talking about the inauguration,” Mitchie tells her.  
  
“Oh yeah I really loved the cover of Everyday People you guys did,” Grace says to Shane.  
  
Mitchie can see Shane twitch slightly at the mention of this detail.   
  
"Thank you,” he says politely.  
  
“So could you guys hear Obama’s speech well enough in the crowd?” Mitchie asks, trying to divert the topic of conversation.

“Not really,” Grace says. “So did Nate pick the song? I know he picked the second one you performed at the AMA’s right? After you did the new single?”  
  
“It was Jason actually,” Shane says.  
  
“Have you started on the AP chem homework?” Mitchie asks Alyssa, practically begging her to throw Shane a life raft.  
  
“I opened the book and then I almost immediately closed it,” she says. “Mr. Aub-”  
  
“You’re finishing school this year right?” Grace asks Shane, cutting Alyssa off completely.  
  
“That’s the plan,” Shane says.  
  
“And isn’t Nate on track to graduate early too?”  
  
Shane doesn’t hold back his frown this time. “How did you know that? He hasn’t said anything-”  
  
“I follow your tutor on Twitter,” Grace explains. “He doesn’t tweet much, he just answered a few questions last month.”  
  
“Oh,” Shane says, dumbly.  
  
“Grace come get some of this bacon,” Alyssa says, distracting her for a moment.

“Oh my God I am so sorry,” Mitchie says, low enough so that only Shane can hear. “We can go if you want, do you wanna go?”  
  
Shane sighs. “No, no it’s fine it’ll calm down.”  
  
“You think so?”  
  
“Not really.”  
  
Mitchie snorts.

...

Mitchie cannot remember the last time she and Shane have had this much tension in the air as they drive home in silence and she almost wants to try and stab it with one of the pens in her center console.

“So I guess we should talk huh,” she finally says.  
  
“What?” Shane looks up from his phone suddenly.  
  
“About what just happened”  
  
“Oh, thank God I thought it would be something bad,” he exhales.  
  
“Ye-yeah. Can you pull over?”  
  
Mitchie nods, pulling onto a residential street and up to a curb.

“Ok so that could’ve gone better,” Mitchie says, putting the car in park.  
  
“A bit, yeah,” Shane says.

“I’m really sorry I didn’t know she was going to be there,” she reiterates.  
  
“I know, it’s not your fault, it just,” he trails off.  
  
“Yeah.”  
  
“It’s just a shitty situation,” Shane says.

“It shouldn’t have to be.”  
  
“No it shouldn’t, but honestly I mean it Mitchie it’s ok.”  
  
“Ok.” She sighs.

Mitchie wishes she’d turned the stereo on, or that it was raining or something. She’d take anything at this point that seemed louder than her pulse.

“Do you think I’m naive?” She asks suddenly.  
  
“What?” Shane asks.  
  
“Do you think I’m naive.”  
  
“No,” Shane says immediately. “Why, what makes you say that?”  
  
“Nothing,” Mitchie says. “Caitlyn said I was the other week.”  
  
Shane frowns. “What the fuck why would she say that?” he says with an air of protective indiginance.  
  
“Because I think she might be right! Like, I’m so careful all the time about letting people in _especially_ when it comes to you but it’s really hitting me that this isn’t even close to how bad it can get.”  
  
Shane sighs, rubbing his face with his hands before dropping them. “Mitchie, I don’t think you’re naive. I think you’ve had a very specific set of life experiences and we’re both just gonna have to have some other ones if this is gonna work in the long run.”  
  
Mitchie’s quiet for a moment. “I want it to,” she says.  
  
“I do too,” Shane says. “It will. We’re just gonna have to learn how to do it.”

…

It’s 2pm on New Year’s Eve before they even make it downstairs.

“I’ll wait until tomorrow to say you two are gonna have to get on a better sleep schedule,” Connie tells them before reaching to hug Shane. “Happy birthday, sweetheart.”

Shane smiles, hugging her back. Mitchie darts behind the two of them to grab a banana from the bowl on the table.

“Honestly sleeping in is exactly the birthday I want. Last year we were stunting in Times Square. This is much better.”

“We’ll probably stay up tonight too anyway,” Mitchie adds.

Shane gives her a thumbs up, pulling his phone out of his sweatpants pocket. “I have like six missed calls from Jason.”

“None from Nate?” Connie asks, concerned on Shane’s behalf.

“One from Nate.”

“That’s actually not out of character for him,” Mitchie says to her mother.

“I’ll call him when I get through the eighty nine other missed messages from God knows who,” he says scrolling. “There’s like five from label execs, our distribution offices, one from our tour manager he’s great actually, a text from Brown-“

“A package from him actually showed up this morning,” Connie says, getting up to grab it from the counter.

“There’s a couple from friends from before I got sober here, and one-“ Shane cuts himself off.

Mitchie glances over at his phone, there was a blue dot next to the name “Mom.” She looks up at him, he clicks the lock button and puts his phone back on the table.

“It’s good that you’re not talking to those people anymore,” Connie says, only having heard the part about Shanes former party scene friends. “You’re moving forward.”

Shane looks up, taking the package from Connie and looking at her. “Yeah.”

“I know you said you didn’t want to do anything, but I made you a cake anyway and Steve is gonna pick up dinner on the way home so just text him what you’re in the mood for and we’ll all eat before we go to Alyssa’s parents party yeah?”

“I think we’re gonna skip the party actually,” Mitchie says. “I think the plan is band documentary movie marathon, yeah?”

“Yep,” Shane concurs.

“Plus we saw Alyssa the other day, she can’t be too mad. I know Jaime and Zack are going.”

Truthfully, Mitchie loves the parties Alyssa’s parents throw. There was some sense of possessive pride at seeing 50 people where you do your homework every other day and nobody said anything if she had a glass of wine. She thinks one day things might get to a place where Shane could fit into that, but not today. Today is for new traditions.

…

Secretly, Shane loves that his birthday is really an excuse to catch up with friends and family. It’s been a few weeks since Shane has sat down and spoken with Brown for more than a short text exchange, and he likes how comfortable it feels to be slumped against Mitchie’s couch with his laptop on his knees connecting with people outside this house.

“So where’s my niece? I miss her. I was under the impression I would see her today,” Brown says.  
  
Shane rolls his eyes. “She’s not your niece. And she’s been in the bath basically since her parents left after dinner. I think she’s trying to cleanse demons from the pipes or something.”  
  
Brown laughs. “You should be left alone more often, practice for when she goes back to school.”  
  
“That sounds terrifying actually,” Shane says.  
  
“Really though, do you have plans to keep yourself occupied?” Brown asks. He says it conversationally, but Shane knows he’s actually worried.  
  
“I’ve got schoolwork to do, and Mitchie gave me some great journals for Christmas that I wanna start writing in this week.”

“Good, good,” Brown says. “And what did you get her?”  
  
Shane smiles at Brown pretending to grill him and promptly shoves the thought of Christmas Eve into a box in the back of his brain. “I got her a new guitar,” he tells him.  
  
“A nice one?”  
  
“A Hummingbird.”  
  
“Good boy.”

Shane chuckles. “How was Belgium? Rub any elbows while you were there?”  
  
“Nah. Just us washed up oldies shooting the shit about the good old days, you know.”  
  
“I don’t think you’re washed up,” Mitchie’s voice calls from the doorway.  
  
“She’s alive!” Brown says as Mitchie joins Shane on the couch and waves at the camera.  
  
“So I’ve heard,” Mitchie says. “How was the benefit? You make it back to New York ok?”  
  
“I would’ve much rathered not flying into JFK at Christmastime, but what else can you do?” Brown says.  
  
“LAX was the same,” Shane says. “On a normal day I don’t actually think LAX is as bad as everyone says, but this was hell.”  
  
“You don’t go back until next week right? It should have calmed down by then.”  
  
“Yeah,” Shane says. “EIther way, I might have security when I go back though so.” He shrugs.  
  
“So, birthday plans? You guys just gonna watch the ball drop?” Brown asks.  
  
“Nah, do you have any music documentary recommendations? We’re trying to do a marathon this week,” Mitchie says.  
  
“The Bon Jovi one was spectacular I thought,” Brown says.  
  
“Of course you did,” Shane says in this half-quiet voice like he couldn’t decide if he wanted Brown to hear the joke or not.  
  
“Oh, shut up,” Brown says.  
  
Shane grins sheepishly. They say goodbye with “I love yous” and promises to speak more and Mitchie goes to pull up the list of movies available on pay per view.

“I think the Bon Jovi one is too new,” she says to Shane from the living room. “It’s not here.”

Shane closes the fridge behind him, holding the bottle of champagne Connie left for them by the neck. “Is that Joy Division one still up?”  
  
“Yeah, I’ll buy it now.” Shane comes into the living room.  
  
“Do you wanna uncork this or should I?” he asks.  
  
“I think the odds of me breaking something are much higher,” Mitchie says.

“I broke a hotel lamp popping a bottle once,” he says.  
  
Mitchie raises her eyebrows.  
  
“Listen whatever other influences I may or may not have been on are irrelevant here,” he says.  
  
They both laugh.  
  
“I’ll teach you, come on.”  
  
Mitchie gets up from the couch, Shane standing behind her as she untwists the wire, covering her hands with his own and pushing the cork out with a loud pop that was nearly drowned out by Mitchie’s short yelp. Shane laughs, dropping a quick kiss on her neck before pouring a glass for each of them.  
  
“Happy New Year,” he says.  
  
“Happy birthday,” she replies.  
  
They clink glasses.

“I’m sorry you missed that party tonight,” Shane says.  
  
Mitchie places a hand on his chest. “Don’t be, I much rather be here.”  
  
Shane nods in acknowledgment. “Are they fun usually?”  
  
“So fun,” Mitchie says. “Our entire friend group packs into Alyssa’s room with like, the best pizza and we all just cuddle until someone locks themselves in the bathroom to cry and two of us have to go in there to facilitate whatever the drama of the month is.”  
  
“And that’s fun?” Shane asks.  
  
“It’s awesome,” Mitchie says.

Somewhere between the second movie and four glasses of champagne they find themselves up off the couch yelling along to The Wombats on the living room stereo until finally they collapse on the sofa, warm and tangled and something like happy.

…

The night before school starts back up again Shane starts to get dizzy from watching Mitchie dart around her room preparing for the next day.

“I think you should look into homeschooling,” he says seriously. “You can take all my classes with me, we’ll get work done in half the time.”

“Absolutely not,” Mitchie says, kissing him once as she gets up to rummage in a desk drawer.

“Three hour days,” Shane adds.

“Wow,” Mitchie says. “Sounds like not much time for those frivolous things the school board insists on. Like learning for instance.” She pulls out the new planner her mother got her for Christmas.

Shane smiles. “I can’t believe you actually use one of those.”

“Shane the only reason you know what’s happening on any given day is you have four people shuttling you from one obligation to the next.”

There’s a knock on the doorframe as Steve pokes his head in. “Your mother would like me to remind you that you have to be up for school tomorrow and under no circumstances should you be continuing your deep dive into bad documentaries.”

“Yes thank you father,” Mitchie rolls her eyes.

“You all set for tomorrow?” He asks.

“Yep,” Mitchie says. “You just gonna hang out here while I’m gone?” she asks Shane, closing her planer and zipping it up in her backpack.  
  
“Yeah I think I have enough school work to hold me over,” Shane says. “I _am_ going to die without those late morning coffees though.”  
  
“Why don’t you take Mitchie’s car? You can drop her off in the morning and you’d have it for the day,” Steve says.  
  
“Shane can’t drive,” Mitchie says almost excitedly, like she’s ratting him out.  
  
“Sorry, when was I supposed to have learned to drive in the last few years?” Shane shoots back.

“You gonna miss me?” Mitchie asks.

“No, just the coffees.”

“Dad would you mind terribly if Shane started sleeping on the couch?”

“I am perfectly comfortable with that,” Steve says.

“I haven’t woken up before noon in two weeks, do you really wanna lose tv access for that long?” Shane counters.

“Alright maybe not,” Steve laughs.

They bid goodnight and Mitchie closes the door behind him before ducking into the bathroom to brush her teeth.

“Nate’s calling-“ Shane says, tilting his head up. “We’re supposed to be going to sleep early,” he greets him.

“You’ve gone domestic,” Nate says.

“You have no idea,” Shane says seriously, getting up to hold the phone out to Mitchie at the sink. “Say hi Mitchie.”

“Huuwi Mtchy,” she says over her toothbrush.

“You could’ve stopped brushing for a second,” Nate says.

Mitchie spits.

“Endearing,” Shane deadpans, but he kisses her anyway, wiping the toothpaste off the corner of her mouth with his thumb. Mitchie grins, leaning up to kiss him again.

“ANYWAY,” Nate yells into the receiver. “I just got home and I’m completely locked out.”

“Did you call Jason?” Shane asks distractedly as Mitchie reaches over him to turn the light off and follows him out of the bathroom.

“No Shane I called you all the way in fucking Indiana to come open the front door for me.”

“Ok! What do you want me to do about it?” Shane flops backwards onto the bed, watching Mitchie dig through her pajama drawer.

“Nothing actually. I was just calling to say goodnight.”  
  
Shane suddenly sits upright. “You what?”  
  
“Is he dying?” Mitchie asks with only semi-faux concern, pausing with her T-shirt half pulled over her head.  
  
“Ha ha,” Nate says dryly.

“I’m kidding but I’m not,” she says, moving to stand in front of Shane and closer to the phone. “Is everything ok?”  
  
Nate hesitates on the line. “Yeah. I-” he pauses for a second. “Guess it just felt weird coming home and not having anyone here.”  
  
“Nate-” Shane starts.  
  
“I’m good. I’m gonna give Jason a ring again.”  
  
“Give us a call if you don’t reach him yeah?” Mitchie says, concerned.

“Yeah, ok,” Nate says.   
  
“You promise?” she follows.

“I-” Nate stumbles before finally sighing. “Yeah, I promise.”  
  
“Night kid,” Shane says.  
  
“Don’t call me that,” Nate says.

“Night kid.”  
  
Mitchie laughs. The line goes dead and Shane sticks his phone on the nightstand before reaching for her hip, pulling her closer to him.

“You look really great in my shirt.”

“Oh my god, is that really what you were thinking about while we were on the phone with your brother?” Mitchie says.

“Like, really great,” he says, not answering the question. Mitchie laughs, circling her arms around his neck and settling straddled on his lap.

“I’ll take it,” she says, kissing him softly.  
  
“You sure you don’t wanna drop out and do homeschooling with me?” He asks.  
  
Mitchie humms, indulging him. “Well, what would that look like.”  
  
“Oh you know,” he kisses her, “you could come on tour with me and we could stop at museums in the middle of New England or Idaho or wherever.”  
  
“That sounds fun, what would I do the rest of the day?”  
  
“Well I’d have to get up early but you could sleep wherever we end up, we could have coffee brought to us and everything. Neither of us would even need to _know_ how to drive,” Shane says.  
  
“That’s the dream,” Mitchie says faux-seriously.  
  
“We could can our opening act, just have you do it.”  
  
“That doesn’t sound legal.”  
  
“No it’s fine contracts are just a formality actually.”   
  
“Sure, of course.”

It’s not until much later, when the lights are out and Mitchie is nearly dozing in and out of sleep, that Shane says, “Maybe I’d enroll in public school instead.”

Mitchie’s eyes stay closed. “Oh yeah?”   
  
“Yeah, I could join the theater club so I’d still be on stage-” Shane starts.  
  
“That totally sounds like it would go well.”

“We could start a garage band, doesn’t Caitlyn’s family have a recording studio in theirs we could do that to yours.”

“My dad would love that,” Mitchie says dryly.

“We could enter a battle of the bands, start from scratch,” Shane says  
  
“Are battle of the bands a real thing? Or is it only in movies?” Mitchie asks

“We can start one then. With all our normal high school friends maybe.”  
  
Mitchie opens her eyes to look at Shane’s face. “It sounds like a nice life.”  
  
Shane smiles, something wistful stirs behind his eyes. “Yeah,” he whispers.  
  
…

Mitchie’s been at school for three hours by the time Shane makes it down to the kitchen to find Steve reading the paper at the table.  
  
“I thought everyone would be gone by now,” Shane says, opening the cabinet to grab the organic cereal he bought upon arrival.  
  
“Thought we could go for coffee this morning, I’ve got my assistant manager at the store so I don’t have to be anywhere,” Steve says.

Shane blinks, taken aback. “Oh, wow yeah ok,” he says.  
  
“You wanna drive?”  
  
Shane frowns slightly. “I don’t have an Indiana permit. Or any permit.”  
  
“It’s ok I won’t tell anyone,” Steve says, smiling.  
  
He tosses Shane the keys, heading out to the garage.

“Have you ever driven before?” he asks.  
  
“Twice,” Shane says coolly.  
  
“So you’re a pro then.”  
  
“Not really,” Shane says. “I was high.”  
  
There’s an awkward sort of silence for a while before Steve speaks.

“All right, you want your hands on the nine and the three on the steering wheel. You can take your hand off for the gear shift now and ease out the driveway. We’ll go around the block a few times.”  
  
They’re at ten or so miles per hour with Shane hitting the breaks every couple of seconds. By the third time they come up to the stop sign at the end of the street, Steve speaks again.  
  
“Ok, before you turn, look at your rear view mirror first, then your side mirror, then over your shoulder to check your blind spot,” he says.

Shane does so, but he turns just a little bit too tight around the corner. “Sorry,” he says.

“You’re doing good,” Steve says. “There’s another one up at this corner we’ll try again.”

He pauses. “You know Shane, I don’t know what it’s like to go through what you did and do it so publicly. But I do know what it’s like to be in recovery.”  
  
Shane frowns in a mixture of shock and confusion. “What?”  
  
Steve nods. “I drank. A lot.”

“Wha-“

“Yeah, by the time I was 28 I’d had just a few too many blackouts,” Steve says. “I stopped before it got really bad, but my bottom when I ended up naked on the edge of a runoff bridge while my friends had to pull me down.”  
  
Shane’s foot hits the break harder than necessary, jolting at the stop sign before turning to look at Steve.  
  
“Thank you for telling me that,” he says honestly.  
  
“You’re welcome,” Steve says, just as ernest. “I went to meetings for the next year,” he continued. “The help helped, you know? I’ve been dry ever since.”

Shane inches forward, flicking the blinker and heading slowly down the street to the next stop sign. “I can’t really go to meetings. I’m in therapy though. Twice a week. We built in into the schedule,” Shane confesses.  
  
“I know, Connie told me.”

“What happened to what we see here, what we do here, what we say here stays here?” Shane half jokes.  
  
“Connie went to a bartending class instead of AA,” Steve says. “Anyway, it doesn’t count when it comes to your daughter.”  
  
Shane’s stomach lurches in a way that has an uncanny rivalry to the car. “I don’t want to pull her into it,” he says. “I try not to pull her into it.”  
  
“That’s a bit unrealistic don’t you think?”  
  
“Yeah.”  
  
“Try a left turn this time,” Steve says. “Same thing with your mirrors, but don’t angle your wheel towards the curb.”  
  
Shane turns too wide this time, but eases down the street a little less choppy than the last one. “Did Connie really take a bartending class?”  
  
“Oh yeah, how do you think she makes those margaritas?”

Shane laughs.  
  
“We’re coming up to a curve here. You’re gonna wanna slow down at the beginning of the turn and then once you’re at the end give it a little gas to get out of it and keep with the flow of traffic.”  
  
Shane slows under 10 miles per hour and it takes forever to get through the curve before picking back up to a still slow 15 at the end.  
  
“Not bad, we’ll try it again when we come around the block,” Steve says. “Make a left here, we’re gonna avoid the main road for now.”

Shane nods, gripping the wheel tighter than he was a minute ago before coming to the end of the road and hitting the stop sign jerkier than he had the last one.  
  
“I mean,” he says suddenly, “Mitchie’s in this already. She’s the thing I think about when-” Shane exhales, “when I don’t want to be sober anymore.”  
  
Steve humms thoughtfully. “I’m glad she can be that for you. She’s been that for me too,” he tells Shane. “She just can’t be the only thing.”  
  
“I know,” Shane says.

“I mean it. No matter how easy it might be right now, it’s not sustainable.”  
  
“Yeah,” Shane says, not really knowing what else to say.  
  
“I know you’re not supposed to be friends with your kids but,” Steve gives a small shrug of his head, “she’s my best friend.”

“She’s mine too,” Shane tells him.  
  
“I like you very much, Shane. I’ve had a great time getting to know you these last few weeks. I just have to protect her too, you understand?”  
  
“I do,” Shane says. He means it. “I think that’s admirable.”  
  
Steve gives him a curious look. “Shane, how long has it been since you spoke to your parents?”  
  
“My mother texted me on my birthday and I said thanks,” Shane says shortly.

“I’m not sure that counts,” Steve says.  
  
“It doesn’t.”

Steve pauses. “You wanna go around another few times before trying the main road?”

“Yeah I think so,” Shane says.  
  
“Turn up here,” Steve says, pointing. Shane flicks the blinker again and it clicks against the silence.  
  
“Alright,” Steve continues, “when was the last time you saw either of your parents?”  
  
Shane’s eyes fixate on the road. “My mom used to go on the road with us in the early days but stopped when I was about 14 and our manager took over,” he tells him. “I saw my dad last about a month before my intervention and then I went to camp.”

“So who’s been looking out for you?”  
  
“I don’t know. My uncle. My older brother.” Shane sighs. “My brother Jason is my rock. _He_ looks out for me. Things have just been...weird recently.”  
  
“Let me tell you something, kid,” Steve says. “Things only get weirder.”  
  
Shane snorts humorously.  
  
“You ready to try a stop light?”  
  
“Yeah, I think so.”  
  
“All right, this one ahead is about to turn green. You can keep going.”  
  
Shane presses slowly on the gas.  
  
…

“It’s so weird watching you do homework,” Mitchie says, tossing her bookbag in the corner of the kitchen and immediately going towards the fridge.  
  
“Schooling is required by law Michelle,” Shane says. His civics book is open on the table next to his laptop, one of Mitchie’s highlighters resting in the binding.  
  
“You’re eighteen now, no impulse to drop out?” Mitchie asks, setting a bowl of grapes on the table before opening her own laptop across from him.  
  
“Let’s not go that far.”

Mitchie laughs, digging through her backpack and starts flipping through a binder. “You did precalc last year right? Can you look at this test for me?”  
  
Shane takes the paper from her hand and stares for a moment. “You got an 80 on this, what’s the problem?”  
  
“I got an 80,” Mitchie says slowly, nodding her head like it’s obvious.  
  
Shane cracks a smile before uncapping a pen with his mouth and turning his attention to the paper in front of him.  
  
“Have you just been at the table all day or were you asleep until twenty minutes ago?” Mitchie asks.  
  
“Those are the most extreme options, am I not allowed nuance?”  
  
“Absolutely not,” Mitchie says.  
  
Shane gives a soft chuckle. “Your dad took me out driving actually.”  
  
Mitchie raises her eyebrows. “Like, in a car? With a steering wheel and everything?”  
  
“I was even given a gas pedal,” Shane says.

“How was that?”  
  
Shane knows she’s not actually talking about the driving part.  
  
“It was..,” Shane pauses, “nice.”  
  
“He likes you a lot,” Mitchie tells him.  
  
“I like him too,” Shane says. “It’s kinda nice like, being parented.”  
  
“Put that one in the record books, on this day in Indianapolis Shane Gray enjoyed having adult supervision.”  
  
“Shut up,” he says.  
  
Mitchie laughs. “I think they’re gonna miss having you around too. My mom will probably be counting down the days until the summer starts.”  
  
Shane smiles. “Listen if it gets her to let you come out to LA for spring break-”  
  
“I don’t think that’ll be a problem,” Mitchie says. “You’re gonna have to come up here before camp though least my dad literally perish at the thought of not seeing you.”

“Lets not go that far I’m sure he’ll stay intact,” Shane says. He fidgets a bit. There’s a point where he won’t even let himself think about how much he desperately wants to stay here with his girlfriend’s family in a city whose population would need to be multiplied 4.6 times before reaching the size of his hometown.  
  
“We’ll sit down with a calendar,” Mitchie says. “It’ll be fine.”  
  
“Yeah,” Shane says absently. And then, with a new focus, “Maybe I _don’t_ care about the work anymore.”  
  
“I don’t think that's true,” Mitchie says. “Wanting more out of life isn’t the same thing as not wanting what you already have.”  
  
“Yeah,” Shane says again.  
  
Mitchie looks at him for a moment. “Shane, what do you want me to say?”  
  
Shane blinks, his eyes looking away from her. “I want you to tell me that things aren’t going to change between us on Friday.”  
  
“But they are gonna change, you were the one who said that remember?”  
  
“And you chose _then_ to listen to me?” Shane asks.  
  
“Yeah,” Mitchie says. “You were right too. I’m not happy about the thought of not seeing you for a while, but I _am_ excited for what comes after, you know?” She pops a few grapes in her mouth to diffuse the tension.  
  
Shane sighs. “Yeah, I do.” He hands back the exam to Mitchie with a few extra scribbles on it. “Take a look at that I added some formulas you missed.”  
  
Mitchie hums in thanks, taking the paper from her as her phone buzzes on the table.  
  
“It’s Caitlyn,” she tells him before suddenly laughing.  
  
“What?” Shane asks.  
  
Mitchie turns the phone to him to give him a look at the picture Caitlyn had sent.  
  
 _The squash actually sprouted XD.  
  
_ “Her dad was trying to grow squash in the winter,” Mitchie explains.  
  
“I don’t know anything about gardening,” Shane says. “But I guess stranger things have happened.”  
  
Mitchie slides her phone up to send a response. Shane watches her type.  
  
“Ten weeks isn’t that long,” he says finally.  
  
Mitchie looks up, her phone snapping closed. “No, it’s not.”  
  
They smile at each other for a moment before the front door opens with a creak, and Connie’s voice calls out for them to help her bring grocery bags in from the driveway. Mitchie reaches across the table to squeeze Shane’s arm, and they get up together.

**Author's Note:**

> tumblr: [ browncesario](https://browncesario.tumblr.com)  
> twitter: @coastalelit


End file.
